


Helping Hand

by floralandfading



Series: Snapetober 2020 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Helpful Harry Potter, Illness, Sickfic, Snapetober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralandfading/pseuds/floralandfading
Summary: Snapetober 2020: Day 5Sick/FeverLoathe as he is to admit it, Severus is sick and requires a little help.Damn it.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Series: Snapetober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949740
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64
Collections: Snapetober





	Helping Hand

He felt awful.

It was as if he could physically feel his thoughts swirling in his head, scraping against his skull, leaving him unfocused and disoriented. He tried to blink past it, but the added effort made his head hurt, and all he could do was stare hazily at the room in front of him and hope he didn’t miss anything important.

A crash sounded.

He straightened up, tried to find the source of the noise and was rewarded with a full body protest as his muscles ached in response. He didn’t want to move again, but he had to. More crashing sounded, overlapped with cursing, and he winced at the sound. 

Merlin, he felt awful. 

He glanced bleary-eyed around the room, wand out and ready to vanish the contents of whatever cauldron had been knocked over by careless students, but instead found himself sitting in a nearly empty classroom with half a dozen cleaned cauldrons rolling around the floor. He blinked, confused, and tried to force his mind to catch up and gather his bearings. 

“Sorry about that.” Potter’s voice spoke up and he felt even more sluggish now as he tried to remember why he was in an empty classroom with Potter, of all people. “I guess I didn’t stack them right.”

Right.

He had given Potter detention earlier that day, had asked him to come in the hour before dinner to scrub the day's cauldrons. He just didn’t remember what he had done, but he supposed it must have been warranted. It was pointless to ask him why he was here. He might feel awful and out-of-sorts, but that didn’t mean his students had to know as well. 

"It's fine." he waved it off. "You can go, if you're done."

He normally would have found something else for the boy to do, but he couldn't think through the fog his brain was enveloped in, to come up with anything else. 

"Uh, sir." Potter approached him, once he had stacked up the cauldrons in a more secure way and was making his leave. "Are you doing alright?" 

Severus blinked in response. 

Potter stared at him curiously, fingers tugging on the sleeves of his robes as he decided whether or not he wanted to tread forward. "You don't look very good."

"An astute observation." Severus muttered. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" 

"Uh, I suppose.”

“Then go.”

After a minute of silence, Severus heaved himself up, He didn’t bother to check the state of the cauldrons, to ensure if Potter had done a well enough job - or had even bothered to finish before making his leave - and instead stumbled out of the classroom.

He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself, shivering. 

He locked up the classroom and started heading in the direction of his personal quarters. One foot in front of the other, he reminded himself, blinking against the newly developed nausea and quickly building lightheadedness. He only had to put one foot in front of the other until he made it to his quarters, and then he could collapse on the couch - or on the floor, for all he cared. 

He hadn’t gone very far, maybe half a corridor’s length, when the lightheadedness had become too overwhelming for him to continue. He paused and leaned against the stone wall.

Damn it. 

Perhaps it would take longer to reach his quarters than he wanted.

“Sir?’

He groaned softly at the sudden voice. Potter was watching him warily from the other end of the corridor, hesitatingly taking a step towards him. Whatever he saw on the potions master’s face strengthened his resolve and he closed the distance between them with a newly found confidence. 

_ Damn it.  _

“What do you want, Mr. Potter.” Severus tried to snarl.

“You really don’t look well.” Harry mumbled, looking at him in bewilderment. As if he couldn’t fathom the idea that professor’s could get sick as well. 

"I’ll be fine.”

Harry nodded and watched as Severus pushed off the wall and tried to keep going. He made it a few steps before the lightheadedness caused him to stumble again and he nearly fell. Suddenly, he could feel a very hesitant hand on his arm, as Harry was suddenly beside him and helping keep him steady.

He scowled, putting enough venom in the expression that Harry dropped his hand,

_ Damn. It.  _

“Should I, should I get someone for you?” Harry asked. He seemed dead-set on helping, even if movements were unsure. “Madame Pomfrey? Or even Professor McGonagall?”

“I’ll be fine.” Severus repeated, tersely. “I just need to get to my quarters.”

“Can I, could I help you then?” Harry asked nervously. “I just, I don’t think you’ll be able to get there on your own - not that I don’t think you’re incapable! I just, you really don’t look good and if I can’t get Professor McGonagall for you, then at least, I want to make sure nothing happens! Uh, sir.”

Severus closed his eyes and mulled it over.

He had the feeling the fourteen-year old was going to hover regardless of his answer and the thought of prolonging his trip to his quarters with unfortunate pauses to gather his bearings, all while the brat was following him and staring was….he scowled. 

“Fine, fine.” he allowed, in bitter defeat. 

They walked down the corridor together, side-by side, until Severus felt his world tilt and shift once more barely ten steps later, and this time, when Harry put a steadying hand on the professor’s arm, he didn’t drop his grip until they had reached a particular corridor with a blue and gold tapestry decorating the wall.

“You can make your leave now.” Severus muttered, tapping the tapestry and they watched as it became a secret hallway that led right to the professor’s quarters. 

Harry dropped his hand again and stepped back. “Yes, sir. Uh, feel better.” 

Severus watched him backtrack and wondered if it was in poor taste to obliviate him after what had happened during the boy’s second year. Ultimately, he decided it was far too unethical to do so.

“Potter.”

“Yes, sir.”

Severus eyed him carefully. He pushed back sweat-soaked hair (was he running a fever?) and tried to look as threatening and authoritative as he could muster right now. “We will never speak of this moment again.”

Harry cracked a grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir!” and then he ran off. 

Severus shook his head and surpassed the last of the wards. He pulled off his boots and climbed into bed fully clothed, wrapping the blankets around him, and stared contemplatively at the ceiling. He should take potions for this, but he just couldn’t be bothered to get up, or even cast a summoning charm.

He curled up, letting himself wallow in his sickness and absolutely refusing to think of the fact that Potter of all students had to help him into his quarters. That was a problem for future him, if he ever saw one. 

Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to severitus, but im so fond of the "we never speak of this again" trope between the two of them


End file.
